


Faking Drunk

by terraclara



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terraclara/pseuds/terraclara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Darren celebrate the end of filming for Season 3 of Glee. A seedy bar is not really the ideal location. And Darren is really not too good at faking drunk. Sequel to Why Not Practice but can be read alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faking Drunk

  _“Yes!_ Last day of filming is over!” Chris cheers, lying face down on the couch.

  “We should go out and celebrate!” Darren says, giving Chris a pat on the ass. Chris just raises an eyebrow at him after turning his head. Darren doesn’t even see.

  “You should turn around and look at my eyebrow. It took a lot of work,” Chris gripes, smiling.

  Darren looks. “I’m sure it was very strenuous,” He grins. “Now, do you want to go out, or what?” He sits on the couch at Chris’ feet.

  “Might as well go out, I guess,” He mumbles into the arm of the couch.

  “Don’t sound too excited,” Darren says, and Chris can hear the smile in his voice.

  “Should we invite anyone else?” Chris asks, sort of hoping Darren will say no, but he knows that keeping their relationship secret puts some restrictions on their dates.

  “Up to you. We could ask the girls,” Darren shrugs.

  Chris makes a noise into the couch.

  “Or… not…” Darren laughs. But where should we go?”

  “Thabrdnthastrt,” Chris says.

  “No, too many paparazzi hang around there,” Darren replies, and Chris is almost surprised he understands.

  “Olive Garden. Everyone hates Olive Garden,” Chris turns his head.

  “Nah… Tell you what,” Darren pats Chris’ calf, “There’s a little bar-club-thing like 15 minutes away. I passed it a few days ago driving up here.”

  Chris nods. “Okay, but give me a second. I have to find clothing.”

  “Not too conspicuous,” Darren reminds, and Chris glares at him.

  “I’ve been doing this longer than you have, newbie,” He monotones. Darren sticks out his tongue.

  Half an hour later finds Darren and Chris pulling up to a nice, clean bar.

  “This place is disgusting. Hasn’t anyone heard of power washing?” Chris wrinkles his nose.

  “I’m sure the inside is better,” Darren reassures him.

  Or not. Chris uses two fingers to pull out a barstool next to where Darren has seated himself. The bar itself is sticky, covered in old beer and god-knows-what. Chris can’t help but wrinkle his nose again.

  “Darren, this is gross. You’re lucky I like you,” He says, poking his companion’s shoulder.

  Darren ignores him and orders two beers. The music is ridiculously loud, and he has to yell over it. The DJ in one corner is playing some upbeat dance music Chris is sure he’s heard before but he doesn’t care enough to try and remember the name. The bar is dubbed ‘The Dancing Lady’, and true to its word, on the club floor, women in what could only be described as lingerie are dancing with the few patrons. Their beers arrive, and Chris throws his back, attempting to forget the dirty atmosphere and work up the courage to ask Darren to dance. It turns out he doesn’t need to, as Darren grabs his hand and pulls him onto the floor. They dance near the back, because even though Darren is a little tipsy already (curse being so small!), he saw the way that guy was glaring at them. Fights were never good, especially when the attacker was at least twice Darren’s weight and eight or nine inches taller.

  After dancing for a few minutes and having his shoes stick to the ground every time he set them down, Chris was done. “We are leaving,” He says grandly, latching on to Darren’s arm and leaving the sticky bar and the creepy bar-goers. He drove to his apartment, dragging a giggling Darren inside and locking the door. It was a small place, just big enough for him and maybe one other. He had a bedroom, bathroom, living room, and small kitchen.

  “Hey babe,” Darren slurs from behind Chris, and _wow_ , Darren’s mouth behind his ear.

  “How are you more drunk now than when we left?” Chris asks, amused.

  “Dunno. Magical, isn’t it?” Darren smiles a little and pushes at Chris’ shoulders. “Come _on_ ,” He whines, “Your bed is like super comfy.”

  Chris lets himself be pulled into his bedroom, where Darren cheers at having made it there. “Bed!” He grins, falling face-down on top of it. He doesn’t move, and just when Chris is starting to worry about suffocation, he turns.

  “Chris, I have a problem,” He announces self-importantly.

  “What is your problem, Darren?” Chris asks, indulging him.

  “This!” He says, pointing to his groin.

  “When did you-”

  “When I kissed your ear,” Darren giggles. Chris rolls his eyes before climbing on the bed next to him.

  “We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?” Chris says, his voice going all gravelly.

  Darren nods, and okay, it’s a little creepy to be turned on by that when he’s acting like a five-year-old, but this is _Darren_ , and anything’s possible. Darren grabs onto Chris’ bowtie and pulls him in, kissing him sloppily on the mouth. Chris complies with the other hand that’s pushing on his back, and flips a leg over Darren, who’s now on his back. Darren slips his tongue into Chris’ mouth, and wins out the short battle for dominance. Darren slides a hand up the back of Chris’ shirt, pushing him impossibly closer. Chris adjusts his body so he’s straddling one of Darren’s legs, instead of his waist, and pushes down with his hips. They both groan at the movement, and Darren kicks his hips up to meet Chris when he does it again.

  “ _Darren,_ ” Chris breathes against his neck.

  “ _Chris,_ ” Darren says back. It takes all of Chris’ concentration to hear what he has to say next. “I’m not drunk,” He pushes out.

  Chris just presses down twice as hard with his hips in retaliation. “I know,” He laughs, pulling Darren’s and then his own shirt over his head. He slips down Darren’s body until his face is in front of the bulge in the other’s jeans. Darren moans loudly when Chris gives a kiss to it. He fumbles with the button for a split second, and then Darren’s pants are around his ankles and he’s groaning at the minimal contact it gives him. Chris chuckles, then takes Darren’s entire length in one fell swoop. Darren’s not small, actually slightly above average, and Chris still struggles a little. Darren understands this, though, and it’s a testament to the relationship they have that he ignores his urge to thrust his hips up and tries to control himself. Even so, the slight twitching of his hips is stopped by Chris’ hands. Chris knows Darren is getting closer to the edge, and hums around his cock. Darren shouts.

  “Chris-” He gasps, and Chris swallows. He pulls himself up to lazily trace circles on Darren’s chest.

  “Christopher Fucking Colfer, what did I do to get you?” Darren grins sleepily. Chris doesn’t know what to say; he’s never really been good with compliments. He kisses him.

  “Chris!” Darren says suddenly (and loudly, Chris winces). “You didn’t-”

  “It’s okay,” Chris whispers. “Just go to sleep.”

  Darren makes a face that tells Chris he’s going to be stubborn. “No,” He says resolutely, and Chris laughs quietly. Darren quickly undoes Chris’ bowtie and his fingers go to the buttons on Chris’ soft blue shirt. His brow creases as the buttons slip out of his grasp in his haste. Chris helps him. When his shirt is pulled off, he falls back onto the bed with a _whumph_. Darren wraps his tongue around one of Chris’ nipples. Chris tries to arch into his mouth, groaning, but Darren pushes him back down. When Chris’ hands weave into his hair, Darren pulls back.

  “No touching,” He grins. Chris makes a garbled noise that sounds like _But I wanna touch._

  Darren presses kisses down Chris’ stomach, suddenly stopping.

  Before Chris can complain, he speaks, slowly massaging Chris through his pants. “I want you to fuck me.”

  Chris breaths a painful response and fumbled in the drawer beside the bed. When his search turns up a small green bottle, Darren grins and slides Chris’ pants down. Chris gets some lube on his hand with shaking fingers.

  “Get on with it,” Darren says impatiently when Chris stares at his hand. Darren flips himself around so his ass is facing Chris. Admittedly, Chris is a bit nervous. He’s always been a bottom, and even though he’s prepared himself before, he’s never had someone else’s ass in front of his face. _Such a gorgeous ass-_

  Darren wiggles his hips to remind him that he should be doing something right now. He slips a finger inside Darren’s entrance. He’s kind of worried about hurting him, but his fears are proven unnecessary when Darren pushes back on Chris’ finger. He puts another in to join the first. Darren is panting now.

  “Chris… More,” He groans. Chris swallows. He presses a third finger into Darren, and something occurs to him. He hooks his fingers down just so… Darren positively _yells._

  “Holy shit Chris,” He growls.

  “You’re- you’re ready,” He says between gasping breaths. Darren crawls down to the end of the bed and flips around so he’s facing Chris. And _oh fuck_ Chris should not have looked at him if he wanted to last at all.

  Darren’s pupils were blown wide, his curly hair a mess, and lips swollen. His chest rose and fell rapidly. _I did this to him,_ Chris thinks, and moans. Darren positions himself over Chris’ cock. And then sheaths Chris completely. Chris, not expecting it, cries out and bucks his hips. Darren bites his lip and bends forward, burying his face in Chris’ chest. His cheeks are wet.

  “Darren-” Chris says quietly. He looks up. There are tears on his face and in his eyes.

  “I didn’t… I didn’t think it would hurt… this much…” Darren whispers painfully.

  “Give it a minute, it’ll get better,” Chris says reassuringly, and rubs Darren’s back. Despite the sheer pleasure he’s in, he knows he has to wait. “I love you,” He says breathlessly.

  “Move,” Darren grunts out, and pushes his arms out straight so he’s at a 45 degree angle to Chris’ body. When Chris doesn’t move at first, Darren lifts himself up and drops back down, shuddering. Chris gets it, then, and arcs his hips up into Darren’s. His fingers curl around Darren’s hips, and his subconscious tells him there will be bruises in the morning. Darren throws his head back when Chris hits _just there_.

  “Chris!” He shouts, and Chris is thankful the walls in his building are thick. Or, he would be, if his brain was functioning properly. His mouth runs dry at the sight in front of him when he opens his eyes. Darren is facing the ceiling, mouth open and lips swollen, hair mussed. His lightly tanned body is glistening with sweat, and his hand is pumping his dick in times with Chris’ thrusts. It’s this that sends Chris over the edge.

  “Darren, I’m-”

  Seconds later, Darren comes over Chris’ stomach and chest. He collapses next to Chris, who looks at him.

  “What?” Darren asks breathlessly.

  “I need a shower,” Chris says shortly.

  “That can be arranged,” Darren grins. However, when he goes to get up, his hand shoots to his ass. “Jesus Christ, what did you do to me?” He groans.

  “I’m sorry, really. Now you know what I go through every time you fuck me,” Chris says.

  “Holy fuck that hurts. I think a bath would be a better option, personally.”

  Chris laughs softly. “Okay.” He stands up and kisses Darren’s cheek. “Love you.”

  “Love you too,” Darren grins.

 


End file.
